


Auld Lang Syne

by phoenixflight



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Family, Fluff, Gen, Next-Gen, Winter, immortal!friendship fic doesn't have to be tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grandpa Jamie tells the best stories, even if he is a little strange. Family fluff - could be read as slash or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> This was the future which a dear friend of mine envisioned for Jamie, and which I wrote for her as a pick-me-up on a bad day. She refuses to let the friendship between a mortal and immortal be tragic.

Pippa picked her phone up off the counter and checked the screen one more time, but it was dark and silent. Glancing out the window she frowned at the white flakes that were piling up against the sill. It was coming down faster. Her husband had texted her from the airport to let her know he had picked up her brother, but she hadn’t heard from him since. The road through the woods wouldn’t be open much longer if the storm kept up. 

Shaking her head, she cracked open the oven to check the pies again, letting out a puff of hot, dry air smelling of brown sugar and pumpkin spices. In the other room, she could hear the sound of her father’s voice, low and solemn as he told one of the stories that he loved. 

Wiping her hands on her apron, she leaned around the kitchen doorway to check on them. The three youngest children were sitting on the rug by the fire, listening with rapt attention to their grandfather. He was leaning forward in his armchair, dancing firelight making his face look young and lively. His silver hair gleamed and his eyes sparkled. Pippa’s oldest daughter, Lizzy, who felt she had grown out of fairy stories, was curled up on the couch with her computer on her lap, but she wasn’t looking at it. The screen was dark, and she was watching her grandfather as well as he gestured with one hand. “... leaving trails of glittering gold in the night!” 

“Did you see it, Grandpa James?” asked Nolan, four years old and terribly serious for his age.

“Of course. Not just that night, but many nights after, when I’d sit up late, watching for the dreams to come.” 

Pippa smiled to herself and ducked back into the kitchen. She remembered the same stories from when she was a child. They had seemed so real. Her father had an incredible imagination. The adventure stories he liked to tell, the games he made up – she couldn’t have asked for a better father. 

Yellow headlights flashed across the window, briefly illuminating the kitchen, and Pippa let out a breath. A minute later, the front door banged open with a howl of wind, and her husband called, “We made it! Didn’t miss dinner did we?” 

There was a chorus of “Daddy!” from the children, and Pippa grinned to herself. 

After dinner had been finished, pies devoured, plates cleaned and teeth brushed, Tess tugged on her grandfather’s sleeve. “Will you tell us more, Grandpa Jamie?” 

He patted her head. “Not tonight Tessa. Its time for you to go and let the Sandman bring you beautiful dreams, and I want to take a walk.” 

“Are you sure?” Pippa asked gently. “That’s quite the storm out there.” 

Her father nodded, smiling aimiably. “Yes, someone outdid themselves tonight. I am quite looking forward to it.” 

Pippa’s husband Michael laughed. “We almost got stuck twice on the way here. You don’t want to go out in that.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Holding his cane in both hands her father heaved himself up out of his armchair. “It’s just a little walk.”

“A walk?” Michael turned to Pippa, wide eyed. “You aren't seriously going to let him go out in that on his own are you? He can barely walk without that cane.”

Pippa’s father, who was standing by the door winding a thick red scarf around his neck, raised his voice. “I heard that. It’ll be a sad day when a man’s own children are telling him what he can and can’t do.” He pulled on his heavy winter coat, and then cold air gusted into the room as he opened the door and stepped out, illuminated for a moment by the porch light, surrounded by a flurry of frenzied flakes of snow. 

Pippa sighed. “He does this every time we come up here out of the city. I’ve given up trying to stop him.” 

“It’s dark out!” Michael cried. “And you can barely see ten feet in front of you in the storm. He’ll get lost!”

“He has a cell phone.” She pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek. 

Michael huffed, but then someone said softly, “It’s ok, Dad. Let him go.” 

They both turned to look at Lizzy. Their oldest daughter was in her PJs with a book under her arm. “He’ll be safe.”

“How do you know?” her father asked, frowning. 

“He has an old friend out there that he goes to meet.” She smiled at them, her expression childish in its self-assurance. “Grandpa Jamie will always be safe in the snow.” 

_For auld lang syne, my dear,_  
For auld lang syne,  
We'll take a cup of kindness yet,  
For auld lang syne.  



End file.
